His smile remained but his brows knitted in question, though he was afraid to ask aloud what she meant by that. Apart from being distasteful of stuffy debutantes he couldn't imagine what she might have against Miss Walters—unless she holding back certain details of their conversation. He held her gaze, not with any clear intention. It was a moment of calm in the storm—literally and figuratively—and there was nothing that needed to be said that couldn't be shared with an exchanged look.

His expression soft, he opened his mouth to say something that died on his lips the moment the wall gave. The charm on the windows had held up against the storm, but they'd made the mistake of not charming the walls as well. Cracks formed around the edge of the window, accompanied by an ominous crunching sound, but before he could comment part of the wall crumbled and the wind came in.

Raphael instinctively moved towards the only corner of the room where there wasn't an open area: the space between the bed and the wall next to it. It took a mere four steps, and along the way he grabbed hold of her upper arm and dragged her with him, and just as the smaller furniture in the room began to shift and turn over Raphael pulled her into a lying position on the floor next to him.

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